


Short Stories

by enbycupcake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:38:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbycupcake/pseuds/enbycupcake
Summary: A collection of short stories that are too long to go in my micro collection but too short for their own fic. Each chapter has a note for which relationship is occurring.





	1. please let me watch you...(obikin)

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter contains Obikin.

> please let me watch you masturbate

He scrambles to refasten his tunics as he feels Anakin’s presence coming closer. They’ve been increasingly leaving part of their still lingering bond open, the heightened awareness it brings of each others’ bodies an advantage on the battlefield – why waste precious seconds scanning for where Anakin is when he could merely _know_. It’s practical. 

An added bonus is for times like this when Obi-Wan is indecent. He manages to secure his obi before Anakin knocks, asking if Obi-Wan would like to head to Dex’s; Anakin’s craving _real_ food again. Shaking his head at his young friend, Obi-Wan opens the door, preparing to ask for a moment. 

He doesn’t get to; Anakin’s look stops him in his tracks, durasteel determination growing in a fraction of a second into the lines that he shouldn’t be getting at his age. Anakin’s fingers, when Obi-Wan glances down, are rubbing in his tunic sleeve. 

“You–we can go after.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Obi-Wan merely looks at Anakin. He can’t know what Obi-Wan was doing, he hadn’t even truly started, and even then, Anakin isn’t that awkward in regard to sexual things that he’d expect Obi-Wan to finish while he waited on him. “After what, Anakin?” 

“After you get off.” Nodding, he continues, “I can see the lube on your nightstand, and from the look on your face, you didn’t get that far yet.” 

Taking in a steadying breath, Anakin always has to prove him wrong, Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Anakin–” 

“Please let me watch you masturbate,” interrupts him, Anakin’s chin jutted slightly. “We’ve been dancing around this for months, and–and I’m not going to let this go on. I love you, Obi-Wan, and you love me, too. I can feel it when you aren’t paying attention. You _love_ me.” 

The air burns out of his lungs like he’s left out in the cold, uncaring vacuum of space. Anakin shouldn’t possibly know of his terrible attachment, the way he holds him in more regard than he should. He’s been so careful with how much affection he doles out, so careful to not touch more than is proper. 

“Get out.” Telling Anakin that he doesn’t love him would be a cruel lie – Obi-Wan loves him every way he possibly could, loves him so much that it scares him – but he refuses to compromise Anakin. To be even more irresponsible with Anakin’s life. 

“Obi-Wan–” 

“No.” Obi-Wan has failed, again, like he always does, and he closes his eyes. “Please, Anakin. We can’t.” 

A warm hand grabs his, and he jolts. The grip is tight, however, like Anakin knew that he’d jerk. “We can keep it a secret.” 

“It’s inappropriate. I’m so much older, not to mention–” 

“My former, my very much _former_ master,” interrupts. 

Choking on a sad laugh – Anakin has always been able to read his thoughts to completion, and shouldn’t that make him happy, that they know each other so well? – Obi-Wan shakes his head. “That should make you uncomfortable, Anakin. And what of Padmé?” 

“Do you truly think I’m the kind of person to hurt her like this? That I wouldn’t have been honest about my affections?” 

“No,” he agrees. It’s not in Anakin’s character; he is loyal to his own detriment, and he thinks that the senator hung the very stars of the galaxy. “No, Anakin, I don’t.” 

“So what else?” Obi-Wan ignores the pleased feeling that Anakin’s thumb beginning to rub his hand brings. “I don’t care that you were my master. We can have this, Obi-Wan.” 

“No, Anakin, we can’t.”


	2. guiding hand (obidala, established anidala)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Obidala with established Anidala. I wanted Padmé to notice Obi-Wan'd like a Dominant, so I quickly wrote it.

She’d noticed in a moment of weakness, Obi-Wan coming to her apartment to update her on the progress of the front. He did it as a curtesy – a tacit acknowledgement between them that he knew who she was to Anakin – letting her know where Anakin was and how he was faring the rare occasions he was on Coruscant without his former Padawan.

It meant the galaxy to Padmé to hear of her husband. 

But this particular time Obi-Wan was especially ragged, tiredness heavy on his shoulders and his attentions as distracted as she’d ever seen them, and she had perhaps been distracted, too, thoughts of Anakin on her mind. Padmé had spoken as if they were intimate, telling him that he was doing so well and she was pleased with the knowledge he was fighting for the Republic; Obi-Wan had immediately loosened and relaxed while the praise drifted over him before he realized what had occurred and hastily tried to change the course of the conversation. 

But Padmé had seen the effect she’d had. A plan had started to form within the next few days.

Anakin’s in the Halls of Healing, many weeks since the idea has taken root in her mind, and Obi-Wan is lingering on her couch, finishing explaining that their boy has escaped death once again. Padmé takes in the gauntness in his face, the bags under his eyes, the way his robes are hanging looser off his frame than they should, and she reaches out to cup the back of his head. Anakin will forgive her for helping his master when she tells him.

“Obi-Wan,” she says, her voice firm. “Quiet.”

He immediately stops talking, but his obedience quickly turns to confusion. “Padmé–”

“I just want to help you. Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Obi-Wan ducks his head away from her hand. He looks like he wants to rise, but he doesn’t; it gives Padmé hope that she hasn’t lost her opportunity. “I would appreciate if you could save your relief for Anakin’s life for Anakin himself.”

“You know that isn’t what this is about.” Padmé smooths out a wrinkle in Obi-Wan’s tunics. “It’s the catalyst, but I do care about you. We can help each other.”

“I won’t let you destroy what you have with him.”

“He’d never forgive me if I could help you but didn’t, no matter what is was.”

At this, Obi-Wan rises, body stiff. His robe swallows him, and Padmé wants nothing more than to use it to yank him back onto the couch with her, to then take it off of him. Anakin uses his as a disguise, to try to hide the fidgets of his body from her; Padmé wants to see just how war torn Obi-Wan’s body is underneath the fabric. 

“I’ll let Anakin know you send your regards.”

Padmé nods, knowing to let him go. She won’t get anywhere if she presses; only Anakin can needle Obi-Wan into things. “Thank you. I wish you safe travel.”

“May the Force be with you, Padmé,” he says before he leaves, the closing of the door no louder than normal but ringing through her apartments. Padmé lets her gaze linger longer than it should, thinking. 

Next time she’ll convince him to let her ease his burden, let them share relief together when he’s here on Coruscant. Maybe written permission from her husband to wave in Obi-Wan’s face will do it.


	3. guiding hand ii (anidala, heading to obianidala)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of last chapter where Padmé talks to Anakin. There's probably going to be a part where Padmé confronts Obi-Wan again in the future.   
> This is hella gentle Dom/sub self indulgence now lol.

She actually feels the slightest bit nervous as she watches her husband happily run his ungloved fingers along her soft skirts as he tells her about his latest mission. Padmé knows that Anakin truly wouldn’t be mad at her for trying to help out Obi-Wan, but now, after the fact, she worries that he will be…sulky after she informs him. 

He’s possessive of his master in a way that Padmé has always found strange, and he might be insulted that he didn’t notice just how poorly Obi-Wan has been doing. 

Pulling calm towards herself, Padmé grabs Anakin’s hand in her own, curling her fingers around his. She pulls them up to press a kiss to the back of her husband’s hand, and she lets her lips linger before she speaks. “Ani, I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” He turns his body closer to her, a pleased smile on his face; he loves when she presses kisses to his hands.

“It’s about Obi-Wan.” Padmé tightens her grip on her husband’s hand. “He’s like you, _baby boy_ , but I don’t think he has anyone. I’m planning to lead him.”

Anakin immediately lets out a low noise of worry, and Padmé hurries to shush him, her hand pressing on his chest to push him back into the couch. His face is crumbling; Padmé shakes her head. She was right about him being insulted about the knowledge that Obi-Wan was in want of something and he hadn’t noticed.

“Anakin. Calm down. He obviously doesn’t need it as much as you do, and I’m sure before the war he had ways to find someone to take care of him.” She hopes, anyway. Padmé watches as her husband takes a few calming breaths before he places his hand over hers on his chest. “He just needs to unwind for a bit. But he thinks that you wouldn’t like it.”

“What do you mean he thin–”

“Anakin, he knows we’re involved. If this were anyone but him, you’d be jealous, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course! But it’s _Obi-Wan_.”

Padmé looks at him, waiting for him to get it, before sighing. “Ani, Obi-Wan doesn’t know that you value him so highly that you’d share me with him, no complaints.”

“You shouldn’t say it like that. I’m not _sharing_ you.”

She applies pressure on his chest, just the tiniest bit. “No, I suppose I’m the one sharing with Obi-Wan in this marriage until he says yes.”

Anakin sputters, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion. 

“Ani. Baby boy. Tell me why you don’t mind the thought of me with him.” Padmé hitches a leg over her husband so she can settle into his lap. Below her, her poor Anakin is nervous and excited at the development, his fingers twitching above hers. “I want to hear you say it.”

“He’s my master.”

“Mhm. And what does that mean to you?”

“I want him to be happy. I want him happy,” Anakin swallows, eyes darting to hers before looking down in shame, “with me, somewhere in picture. Because he’s my master.”

Padmé brings up her other hand to cup his chin, tilting his face up. “And I’m your wife. I’m the perfect one to make him happy while you get to keep him, hm?”

“Padmé,” he says, shaking his head. 

She kisses him, tightening her hold on his chin. “Ani, I’m not mad. I’m the smartest woman you know, remember? I figured your feelings out before you did. This doesn’t hurt us.”

“Padmé…” his hands come to her waist. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Tilting her husband’s head down to press a kiss to his forehead, Padmé smiles as she returns his head to eye level. “You were a hopeless dork of a romantic. One who happily wanted to be mine.”

“I love being yours.”

“Mm.” Padmé kisses his lips, pleased when Anakin tries to follow as she pulls away. Her hand on his chest stops him, a slight amount of pressure telling him no. “So how do you think I should go about making Obi-Wan mine, at least for a night?”

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never seen him… _be_ seduced.” 

“Well, I’ll figure it out. I’ll need you to either write him a permission slip or be there, regardless.”

Anakin snorts. “A permission slip?”

“Yes, something like _‘I, Anakin Skywalker, have okayed my wife, Padmé Amidala, to Dominate and maybe have nice sex and/or cuddle with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m not going to go into a jealous rage; in fact, I really want you to submit to and maybe have nice sex and/or cuddles with my wife.’_ ”

She almost makes it through with a straight face, but Anakin is giggling the whole way she talks. A little snort makes its way in with the giggling, and Padmé breaks with it. It really does sound ridiculous. 

“Padmé–that’s so terrible–oh my Force–” he breaks off to catch his breath, “you can’t make me sign something that says that.”

“I _could_ , though.”

“Obi-Wan would never believe that we were being serious.”

“He’d believe you were being serious.”

“Padmé!”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, sorry. But really, he needs your express agreement to this.”

“Well, then he’ll get it. I want him taken care of.”

Padmé sighs and lets her forehead rest against her husband’s. “Me, too.”


	4. shaving (anidala, nsfw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unrelated to the Guiding Hand chapters. The pairing is Anidala, and there's some Dom/sub tones. NSFW.

> shaving

Picking up his scissors from the side of the tub, Anakin thumbs off the little flimsy cover as he spreads his legs slightly. He reaches down and starts to trim at his pubic hair; it’s been a long time since he’s managed it, the war front not very conductive to luxury hygiene – when he’s ship-side he is the only one to see what’s under his leggings, and when he’s planet-side there are more pressing things that require his time than his hair. So Anakin simply let it grew undeterred; it’s not like it bothers him. 

“I still don’t understand how you can do that in the bath,” his wife says from the door of the refresher, her robe dragging along the floor as she comes in. 

Anakin shrugs, wiping his scissors free of hair. “I like doing all my hygiene at once.” 

A soft sound of acknowledgement leaves Padmé’s throat as she settles on the edge of the tub. Her hand comes to brush through the wet locks on his head, and she pulls him closer so she can press a kiss on top. “So how long do I have you? We never got to that part last night.” 

Last night, Anakin had swept her into hurried kisses in his arms and she had pulled him into their bed, her touches desperate to remind them just whose husband he was, just how much she loved and missed him. Anakin had matched her intensity stroke for stroke, caress for caress, kiss and bite and tug and moan and whimper just as needy. There was little talk of the world outside their relationship, last night. 

“We’re here for about a week. Ahsoka has some tests she needs to be in the Temple to take.” 

Padmé’s hand trails down to his neck, her nose scrunching as Anakin drops more hair in the water floating around him. “Tell her I said good luck.” 

“Will do.” Anakin dips his scissors into the tub and wipes straggling hairs off. He salutes his wife with them once they’re clean, water dripping from the blades. 

Rolling her eyes, Padmé squeezes her hand. Anakin closes his eyes at the comforting pressure it brings. “My dorky husband.” 

“That’s me,” he agrees, smile growing on his face. “My lovely wife.” 

“That’s me.” 

Letting out a short laugh, Anakin places the scissors back onto the side of the tub. He grabs his razor, warmth curling in his gut at the reflexive tightening of Padmé’s hand against him at the action. She never asks it of him and will never deny him however he is, but she prefers him clean shaven. Anakin is more than happy to oblige her whenever he’s planet-side. Like being covered in hair, not having any between his legs doesn’t bother him. It just is. 

Pulling his skin taunt, Anakin slides the razor down his mound. The hand on his neck shifts; Padmé’s slender fingers start slowly caressing him as she watches him shave, sometimes tugging on the bottom strands of his hair. It’s easy having her attention like this. Anakin’s missed it. 

Once his mound is mostly free from hair, a quick run of a finger along his skin to gauge since he’s submerged in water, Anakin spreads his legs a bit wider. Rolling his shoulders first, Anakin then starts the process of pulling his lips and adjusting his sitting position every so often to get rid of all of his hair. Padmé silently watches the whole while. 

As he comes close to being bare, his wife’s hand tightens its most on his hair. Warmth curls in his gut at the approval, and Anakin hurriedly shaves the last bit of hair off of himself. He cleans the razor off before replacing its cap, then turns to face Padmé. Her lips are parted, just the slightest, and he smiles at her. 

“Dry me?” 

She grins at him as she casts her hand out for the towel behind her on the tub edge. “Of course, Ani.” 

Anakin pulls the plug out of the tub before standing. Padmé does the same. Water drips off of him, and Padmé quickly wraps him in the towel after he steps out of the bath. She pats at his upper body before bringing the towel up to gently dry his hair. Anakin sighs at the soft sensation; he hears his wife’s amusement as he closes his eyes. The towel then comes down to finish drying his shoulders, his arms, his chest. 

Upon reaching his groin, Anakin laughs at Padmé’s drying gets faster. It’s a quick pat to his crotch, a quick rub down of one leg then the other. He lets his hands find his wife’s hair and tangle in it. Padmé rises again, the towel dropped to the floor, and Anakin follows her. His wife’s fingers press against his stomach to trail down to his mound, and they caress the newly smooth skin there before sliding lower. 

“You look so good, Ani.” 

Leaning down, Anakin brings his hand up to cup the back of Padmé’s head as he kisses her, her fingers sliding over his labia. “Only for you.”


	5. gagging (obikin, nsfw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Obikin, NSFW with Dom/sub.

> gagging

His mouth is blissfully stretched wide around his master’s cock, his hands curled on his master’s spread thighs. There’s hands in his hair, a gentle reminder that he’s here because he’s loved, the hands running through his hair and keeping it out of his face while he works. 

Anakin thinks he could die happily here. 

Sliding his mouth down further, he concentrates on relaxing his gag reflex like he’s been practicing in the mornings, a toothbrush held to the back of his throat. It’s harder now, a dick thicker, and Anakin struggles to keep going. His fingers tighten on his master, but he doesn’t stop. Anakin wants to show Obi-Wan that that he’s been thinking of him while he’s been away. 

His master’s cock presses against his throat, and Anakin tries to turn his head the way he read makes it easier. He’s too eager; hastily using his master’s thighs to push himself away and off, Anakin pulls a hand to his mouth as he gags, loud and heaving. Anakin squeezes his eyes shut tighter as he forces his breathing to level back out, thankful that he didn’t actually vomit much at all, but he’s not permitted to move back to continue. 

Obi-Wan’s hands have moved from his hair, one to his cheek and the other to his chin. His hands are gentle, reassuringly caressing his face. Anakin feels like he could cry at tenderness after ruining the mood. “Anakin, relax. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” He swallows and makes a face at the leftover feeling. “I can keep going. I can do it right this time.” 

The hands cradling his face push it up so he’s making eye contact. He’s met with concern, shame, and arousal, still. Anakin licks his lips, hopeful. “Well, how can I say no when you’re so eager to show me that you can deepthroat me? Have you been practicing, dear one?” 

“Yes, Master,” Anakin says, hands coming back to rest on Obi-Wan’s thighs. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Well, color me surprised.” He pets at Anakin, thumb caressing his cheek. “My good boy, thinking of me while I’m away. Anyway time you’re ready again, dear one. Don’t rush.”


	6. dressing (obikin, nsfw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nsfw and the pairing is Obikin; there are small hints of Obianidala though.
> 
> Also, not that I've finished the next one, but would anyone prefer I move the Guiding Hand chapters to their own fic? Or keep posting them here?

> dressing

His eyebrow quirks as Anakin giggles; all he did was pull the beautiful gift from Padmé over Anakin’s shoulders. Hooking the back of the golden bra, Obi-Wan then slips his fingers under it to pull Anakin, the slightest bit. 

“What’s so funny, dear one?” 

Anakin gives him a teasing smile over his shoulder, his curls wild around his face. “I can’t just be happy? My chest looks _good_ right now.” 

“It always does.” Nonetheless, Obi-Wan puts a hand on Anakin’s shoulders to turn him around. His young lover wasn’t lying; the cups of the bra push up his breasts the slightest bit and frame them extremely well – Obi-Wan wouldn’t be surprised if Padmé had had Anakin personally fitted once they’d become intimate – and the sight stirs arousal in his gut. Only allowing himself to run a hand over one side of Anakin’s chest briefly, pushing down the urge to play with Anakin through the bra, Obi-Wan grins. “My pretty boy.” 

The slightest tremor runs through Anakin’s body at the praise, his breath hitching. Pleasure coiling in him, Obi-Wan brushes some of the hair from Anakin face before reaching behind him to grab another article of clothing. Murmuring that it’s his tunic, Anakin obediently raises his arms. Obi-Wan guides them through the sleeves, turning Anakin so his back is once again facing him, and he fastens the sides together. He repeats this for the next tunic, a hand lingering around his lover’s waist while the other grabs Anakin’s obi. 

Obi-Wan pulls Anakin flush against his front once the obi is fastened. Anakin moans at the contact, and Obi-Wan tightens his grip at the sound. “Dear one, behave for this next part.” 

“But I don’t _want_ to.” He can hear Anakin’s pout. “Can’t we just this once? Put my panties on after you’ve made a mess of me?” 

Trying his best to ignore just how much he likes the sound of that, of Anakin walking around the temple in soiled underwear, _forced_ to think of him all day long, Obi-Wan inhales. “And why should we, just this once?” 

“Besides that it’s hot, having sex half dressed? I’ll make it good for you.” 

Obi-Wan laughs, letting himself rub against Anakin for just a moment. “Oh, dear one, you always try to make it good for me. That’s not much of a promise.” 

“ _Please_ ,” Anakin begs, desperately pushing back into him, “just fuck me. I don’t even have to come.” 

“Just bend you over the counter and take you? Or put you on your knees, not even let you touch yourself as you blow me, with your legs spread so far apart I can see you’re wearing nothing under your tunics? Let you make a mess of the floor you’d get so wet from the desperation?” 

A high, needy whine echoes throughout the room. Obi-Wan nuzzles the side of Anakin’s head as he digs his fingers as hard as he can into his waist. Anakin lets out a shaky breath in response. 

“As tempting as that is – and it is _very, very_ tempting, dear one – the answer is no. I’m sure you’ll recall that I have a council meeting to get to, and your blowjobs are anything but quick.” 

Whining, shaking his head at the denial, Anakin grabs at Obi-Wan’s hands. “I can do it fast.” 

“Anakin, I said no.” Pulling himself away, Obi-Wan removes his hands from Anakin’s grip. He reaches for Anakin’s underwear and positions himself in front of his lover. “Now, no grabbing at my hair. I won’t be pleased if you try to convince me further to have sex with you.”


	7. first thoughts (anidala, nsfw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter the pairing is Anidala, though Padmé talks of Sabé being the first person she thought of in bed while Anakin talks, a bit more explicitly, of the first person he thought of being Obi-Wan.
> 
> I swear the next time I update this fic it'll be a continuation of the Guiding Hand chapters.

Anakin bites his lip as Padmé rubs her fingers along his collarbone, a gentle smile on her own lips. He’s hot under the collar of his loose sleep shirt, a little bit secondhand embarrassed and a little bit more in love with his wife after the trust she offered in sharing her first carnal desires; the first person she had thought of was her then closest friend, Sabé. 

“So, Ani?”

Shaking his head, Anakin finds his wife’s hand to squeeze it. “I…it’s really embarrassing.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he tightens his grip the slightest. “Your story was cute.”

“It was cute that I embarrassed myself in front of Sabé?”

“It was cute how sweet your fantasy was, like making love in a romance holo.” Anakin then grins. “But tell me Sabé wasn’t amused that she caused you to flush, like, all the time after she found out.”

Padmé flicks his nose. “She did find it very flattering that I briefly thought of her in bed. But she _wouldn’t_ let it go, Ani.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t.”

Pressing a kiss to Anakin’s lips, Padmé gives him a loving smile. “No, but you’re madly in love with me.”

“I am,” he agrees as he leans in to give her more kisses. 

Anakin unwraps his hand from Padmé’s to bring it up to cradle her face, to tilt his wife up into the kiss. The fingers on his collarbone slide up to his neck, softly cupping it in an embrace. Melting at the touch, Anakin sighs against Padmé’s lips. A smile grows against him, and with it Padmé pulls away from him. Her eyes shine with amusement. Warmth kindles in Anakin’s stomach seeing it. 

“Don’t distract me with kisses.” Padmé taps his throat. “Who was the first real person you thought of?”

A whine escaping him, Anakin pouts. “Padmé.”

“It’s your turn, Ani. I won’t laugh.”

“That’s…not what I’m worried about.” Swallowing, highly aware of his wife’s hand on him, Anakin gazes down, not meeting Padmé’s eyes. “You know him.”

A soft “ _oh_ ” escapes her, and she presses a kiss to Anakin’s forehead. “Obi-Wan?”

“Obi-Wan,” he whines.

“Well, he’s always been handsome. What did you think about?”

Anakin sputters. “ _Padmé_.”

“What?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“I told you about Sabé!”

“You two were friends! The same age!”

Padmé massages her thumb on the side of Anakin’s throat. “It’s normal to think about older people during puberty, Ani. You like and admire him, too.”

“I’m going to fluster when I see him again. It was really bad, Padmé. I thought I was going to die during lightsaber training.” 

“Uh oh. Were you crushing on him, too?”

“He was my everything, Padmé, but not like _that_.”

She snorts. “If you say so, Ani. You wanted him to bed you.”

“Shut up. I was fifteen and horny, and Obi-Wan was the only one ever nice to me.”

Anakin feels the mood shift, Padmé’s hand coming up to cup his face, and he immediately pushes out, not wanting to talk about being a Padwan, not at all, “I used to think of having him in my mouth. Or of him lying me on my bed and making love to me.” 

“Not of him eating you out?” she asks, her hand cradling his face and her eyes worried. She won’t ask him to elaborate about Obi-Wan being the only nice one. For this morning, at least, Anakin knows. Hopefully they’ll avoid it the rest of the day, and it will be forgotten.

Anakin shakes his head. “You know I live to please.”

“Shut up, Ani. _You_ giving oral is just as much about you as it is me.”

“I can’t help that I like doing it so much.”

Padmé kisses him. “I’m definitely not complaining about how eager you are to go down on me.” 

“No?” Anakin grins, pressing his nose against hers. “I could…right now…”

Rolling her eyes, Padmé tilts her head and uses her hand to guide Anakin’s to kiss the tip of his nose. “After Obi-Wan’s set the mood?”

“ _Padmé_ ,” he whines. “I want to think about _you_ now.”

“Your pick up lines continue to somehow enchant me.”

“It’s my boyish charm,” Anakin slides his hand from his wife’s face to the neckline of her nightgown. “And maybe that thing with my tongue.”

“That _is_ lovely, Ani.” Padmé’s hand finds its way into Anakin’s hair, petting at the back of his head. “Do you want to stay on our sides or do you want me to roll over?”

“Just like this. You could put your leg over me?”

Petting his head one last time, Padmé then reaches for her nightgown. “I think I want you to go fast today. Like we’re dumb teenagers.”

“My dumb teenage self couldn’t get you off without heavy instruction.”

“Is that you asking for me to lead you heavily, baby boy?”

Anakin sighs happily. “Please, Padmé.”


End file.
